Was it possible this Saturday could get any more depressing? The rain was coming down in torrents. The weather had canceled the baseball game, which had been planned for right now with a couple of my good friends from school. Oh well, I could always depend on one of my friends to be available at any time with just a moment’s notice.
Nine Lives and I planned on being as lazy as
was possibly today. Nine Lives or “NL” for short is our large, black, furry
Tabby cat. My mom and I adopted her last year from our local pet shelter. Nine
Lives name was chosen because she should have died a long time ago with all the
mishaps she’s gotten into.
NL is a cat with a sedate meow. When NL is
calm, she enjoys relaxing and lying underneath things. That could be the
kitchen table at dinnertime, underneath my bed when it’s nighttime, or under
our coffee table when she wants to rest from a walk around the block.
Fortunately, NL will come out from under the
coffee table, where she’s located presently, for a bite of her favorite cat
food. NL coyly munches it, and moves back under the coffee table again within a
matter of seconds.
As I said before NL and I were doing some
major chilling out. I was relaxing in the worn brown leather recliner in our
family room. NL and I were both watching the classic movie the original The
Time Machine movie. It is based on the novel by H.G. Wells. Wouldn’t it be
wonderful if time travel were actually possible? Hollywood and special effects
have a way of making one think anything is possible.
My oral
report is due Monday, and I don’t have time to read the book so I hope this
movie is close to the book. (Our class was given this assignment over a month ago.
I admit it. I’m a procrastinator.) I wonder if I can fool Mrs. Latekin, my
English teacher.
Mom was
upstairs in her office working on her lesson plans for next week. She is one of
the most dedicated third grade teachers at Oaksdale Elementary School I’ve ever
known. When Mom gets focused on teacher stuff, neither an earthquake, tornado, or fire in the
near proximity could delay her from the goal of lesson plan completion.
Nothing
irritates me more than someone calling in the middle of a movie with some
trivial question or bit of information. I’d be willing to bet that is Lyna on
the other end with some girl stuff she feels I need to know about. I wish she’d
get a life. Maybe I can screen her call, and let the answering machine get it.
After just four rings, the answering machine activated with the
brighter-than-sunshine, pre-recorded voice of my mother.
"Hello,
you’ve reached the Philman residents. Danny or I are unavailable to talk right
now, but if you'll leave a brief message with your name and telephone number,
we’ll get back to you as soon as possible.
Thank you, and have a wonderful day.”
"Danny,
this is Lyna. I know you're at home
screening this call. I bet you’re with NL, eating popcorn, and probably
watching The Time Machine for that oral report you have due Monday. I’ll
never understand why you chose such a completely violent book. Is it a male
thing? If I were truly your best friend, you would answer this phone right now.
I need to talk to someone about an extremely important matter. All right I am
hanging up at the count of three. I mean it. One, two . . ."
Lyna was
adopted as an infant from a Korean orphanage. Doctors told Lyna’s parents they
were medically unable to have biological children. Years later, Lyna’s mother
was surprised to discover she was pregnant with Nancy. "Sister Lyna"
(one of the nicknames I have for her) has been there for me through several
major life crises.
When I
was fourteen, my dad was stabbed at our neighborhood quick mart in the midst of
a robbery. Mom and I both miss dad more than anyone can imagine. We wonder why
God chose to take such a good man in the prime of his life. He had so much to
offer the world, and a lot more love to give us. Lots of things still remind me
of Dad. Memories of our private guy talks, our walks together in the woods, and
his infectious laugh can bring back wonderful memories in an instant. Will my
heart ever stop mourning?
Anyway,
back to Lyna. We’re more like brother and sister than best friends. I feel I
could trust her with my deepest, dark secrets if I had any. I better answer
that phone before Lyna has a nuclear meltdown and hangs up. I think she’s just
about there. "Why won't you answer the phone?" I hear her sniffle on
the verge of tears. "Why are you being so mean to me? What did I ever do
to you to deserve . . .?”
"Calm
down. I’m here.” I answer quite irritated. What was so important that you had
to interrupt me while I’m working on my oral book report?”
Lyna’s
pleading; sad voice went to furious, out-of-control tornado in a nanosecond.
“Why didn’t you answer the phone? Don’t act like you’re busy doing homework, I
know you and NL are watching The Time Machine on TV. You are not
going to ignore me like this.”
"Listen,
Sister Lyna." I replied calmly. "I don't care if you're dad is the
mayor of Oaksdale, Ohio, and a pastor. You can’t boss me around whenever you
please. You are not my mother so stop acting like it. Ok?"
"All
right," she replies gruffly.
"My important news is that Krisman’s is
having their big pre-Christmas sale and its only September," Lyna blurted
out with surprise. "I finally got that sky-blue Vicaldo's cashmere sweater
I’ve been dying to own. At half off, it was a steal.”
These
female things really bore me to the point of snoozing. Of course, that sweater
would complement perfectly those beautiful blue eyes of hers that mesmerize me.
Why was Lyna so surprised about the sale at Krisman’s? It happened at about this
time every year, rain or shine. Our local newspaper had been advertising the
sale for the last week. I wonder what took her so long to notice.
"Great,"
I said with a false enthusiasm. "I bought you a little surprise at the
sale just for being such a great friend."
"That's
so sweet of you. Tell me what it is? You know how I can’t stand surprises.”
"If you want your present today, you'll
have to meet me at the Pizza Palace just inside the Twelve Oaks Mall at 3 pm
sharp.
I thought
about the velvet box that lay on my bedroom dresser. The little brooch was
fashioned after a Star of David. This star was similar to the one that led the
magi to the boy Jesus. The six tiny
color gems and gold coating on the pin were fake jewels. This was the best my hardware- store salary
could afford.
Money goes through my fingers like water.
That’s probably why I feel so poor all the time. Of course, I could have bought
Lyna an old coin for her coin collection from that fantastic antique shop over
in Lacy. Mom would have had to drive me there, and that’s about ten miles away.
Anyway,
Lyna's got enough coins from all those interesting places where her family
vacations at every summer. "All right, if you insist," Lyna answered
despondently
"Anything interesting been happening in
your household since we talked to each other Thursday night?"
"Yes,
that little pain in the butt known as my sister, Nancy, has been watching an
animated show from Hulu called The First Christmas. I love
to hear and watch the Christmas story from the Bible. Thirty times in two days is past my point of reasonable
patience. My younger sister hogs the
family TV so no one else can use it. It makes me so angry."
"Isn't
there another TV in your parent’s bedroom?"
"Yes, but that's not the point. I like to
use the one in the great room."
"Let's change the subject. Did I tell you
last week that Nancy kicked me in the shin for no good reason."
“See what I mean? She’s horrible. If she
doesn't get out of this second grade brat stage soon, I'm going to lock her in
a dark closet."
“Lyna, I think I saw that film Nancy is stuck
on when I was younger. Is that the one with the talking donkey that tells the
entire story? The thing is so syrupy sweet it makes you gag?”
"That's the one . . . It's such an
unrealistic telling of the Christmas story it makes you want to scream."
Lyna
exclaimed with confidence, "The more fantasy, the better Nancy likes it.
Why don't Hollywood producers ever show a pregnant Mary with morning sickness
or writhing in pain? What about the poor
donkey that had to carry her and her load?
Was Joseph cranky on the long trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem? Who
delivered Jesus? Wasn't Mary an average, pregnant, Jewish woman of that time?”
“By the
way, we saw a film about the birthing process in sex ed. class last year, and
it was highly informative. I wonder if Mary screamed, and called Joseph every
word available when she gave birth to Jesus." Danny said smugly.
“Danny, I
really hope God doesn't come through this telephone line, and strike you dead
with lightning for being so sacrilegious. We are talking about the Holy Family;
this was not your average run-of-the-mill parents and child. Jesus, Mary, and
Joseph are symbols of the Christian faith, not just some fairy tale."
Suddenly,
Lyna stopped and abruptly changed the topic of our conversation to something
out of a science-fiction thriller. "Don't you think it would be neat if
you and I could be there for that first Christmas in Bethlehem?"
"Lyna
back to earth now. Get your head out of the clouds, and come back down to
reality. It doesn't matter what that
first Christmas in Bethlehem was like.
You and I will never know the true untold story behind what happened.
We'll just have to accept what the Bible says about it."
“Danny,
for a Christian you sure have a lousy attitude about Christmas." Lyna
stated emphatically.
"Lay off, Lyna!"
"By the way," Lyna admitted.
"My mother is pregnant again. The doctor just told her today. Dad will
find out about it when he gets home from golfing with his friends in fifteen
minutes. Mom is fixing an extra good dinner to soften the news"
"Boy,
will he be surprised.” I laughed. “Wouldn't I like to see the look on his face?
Didn't he once say that Nancy was the last child he ever wanted to have? Can you blame him? So what are your Mom's
favorite baby names?"
"Kyle
Aaron is the name for a boy. Patricia Renee is the name for a girl."
The
conversation continued on for a few more minutes, until I put an end to it. I
had three hours till I met Sister Lyna at the mall. We closed with our
traditional friend's closing.
"Here
are lots of hugs and kisses, Brother Philly.”
"Chow, Sister Lyna." I said. I heard
lots of smooch noises over the phone before the line went dead. That was the
end of our conversation until we rendezvoused at the mall later that afternoon.
The rain
had finally stopped and the sun was out. Of course everything outside was
completely wet. Mom was still knee deep in her lesson plans. She could not be
swayed to drive me over to the Twelve Oaks Mall. She suggested with an
irritated motion of her hand for me to try the public transit system. NL was
safely asleep under my bed. So off I jogged to the nearby bus stop.
With bus
stop only three blocks away from my house, I assumed I could take my time
getting there. My assumption turned out to be incorrect. Once the number two
Butler Avenue bus cleared the corner, I took drastic measures. With the speed
of a seasoned track star, I arrived at the bus stop just as it pulled up.
Inside
the Butler Avenue bus, I sat uncomfortably on a seat that had ninety percent of
its springs poking into my rear. The bus was loaded to full capacity so I could
not move anywhere else. I was in the
last available seat in the bus. I refused to stand in back of a woman that
smelled like she hadn’t seen a shower and a bar of soap in a long time.
In a
short amount of time, the bus driver yelled out, "Next stop is the Twelve
Oaks Shopping Mall." When the rickety, old bus stopped, I waded through
the sea of people, and finally got off. Trailing behind me was a smiling
pregnant woman with a bright orange dress.
Her work badge that was swinging from her neck identified her as “Marilyn
Childs.” Marilyn was having a rough time getting off the bus steps. I offered
my hand in assistance. She graciously accepted.
Once off,
Marilyn thanked me, and waddled into the mall. She resembled a large, bouncing
orange. Carrying around thirty extra pounds couldn't be easy on the back or the
front side. I felt sorry for this stranger. Lyna might be right for once. Maybe
the Holy Family wasn't that much different from other couples in the town of
Oaksdale. Without someone to chauffer me around, the public bus system was my
mode of transportation . . . whether I liked it or not.
"My
mother could have driven me here," I sulked. "Didn't she ask me to
pick up something for her cake recipe before I left today? I felt in my pocket.
Once again, I’d left my iPhone at home in my room. Those half-priced stone
washed jeans at Krisman's can wait a few minutes while I make this call. Let’s be honest, I've got all the time in the
world."
I looked
down the sidewalk for a place where I could make a phone call. Down the
sidewalk to my left appeared (as if by magic) an unusual telephone booth. I’d
been to this mall hundreds of time. I’d never seen a telephone booth like this
here before.
"I really should pay closer attention
next time I’m here," I thought. Something about this phone booth sent cold
chills up my spine. This booth seemed to be calling me to get inside it. I had
the option of turning back and running. If this was a telephone booth, no one
was waiting in line to use it. It looked like a quiet place to call home.
As I lfelt for two quarters in my jacket
pocket, I glanced at the booth. Something about it made me uncomfortable. The
eerie feeling went up and down my spinal cord. Could being stuck in a dark
funeral home at night with no light be any worse? This contraption belonged in
a carnival spook house not right outside of a shopping mall.
In all
actuality, this booth resembled a humungous black coffin. The two exceptions to
that were the brass doorknob on the front and the rooster weather vane on the
top. Stepping into this booth, something warned me I wouldn’t be seeing
Oaksdale again for a long, long time.
Though
this booth seemed exciting and mysterious, I wondered what would happen once I
went inside of it. Was it good-bye to enjoying mint milk shakes with mom, chats
with Lyna, scaring myself silly watching my favorite comedians on Netflix,
or eating grandma’s lasagna?
I stepped
inside the booth "Why am I being such an idiot about this"? I said to
myself as I looked around. "This is just a normal telephone booth with a
telephone and a light bulb on the ceiling, the way it's supposed to be."
Maybe my
overactive imagination really expected strange green lights, flashing buttons,
or even Frankenstein himself? Was I disappointed that nothing bad was
happening? Nervously, I plunked my two quarters into the telephone, and began
to dial.
After three rings, a man speaking a foreign
language answered. At first, I wondered if I'd dialed the wrong number. If I
hadn’t dialed the wrong number than a thief had broken into our home, and was
holding my mother hostage. Mom wouldn't let a stranger in the house unless she
was being held at gunpoint.
Panic and
anger swelled up within my chest. It amazed me that someone could be so dumb as
to answer the phone of the house their robbing.
Was it Crazier yet that I understood the language this man was speaking. My vocal chords responded back to him in the
same strange gibberish.
"If
you've hurt my mother in any way, I'll find you, and hurt you. That's a
promise. Now get out of my house." By now I was screaming at the top of my
lungs. My face felt like it was on fire. I needed to hang up, and dial 911
immediately. Mom was all I had left in this world. The deep male voice listened
and calmly replied. "Good sir, I am Koa, the owner of the Inn of Chimham.
Our inn is the best in Bethlehem. May
I hold a room for you?"
Upon
hearing the word "Bethlehem," the booth began to rumble like a herd
of elephants was running through. I was sliding into another state of panic.
"If this is an earthquake, this is the last place I want my body found
in." I screamed. My whole town was probably crumbling around me, and
possibly my mother was being raped at this very moment. Somehow, I felt Lyna
was calling out for me. These were all good incentives for me to get out of
this thing. The phone slipped out of my sweaty hands, and I reached for the
doorknob. It didn’t exist. When had the door closed on me?
"Let's
be calm," I tried to convince myself. "If I push on this door with
all of my weight, it will pop open." So that’s what I did with every ounce
of strength in my body. Regardless of whether I pushed, pounded, screamed, or
kicked, the door didn’t budged. Whether I liked or not, I was being held
hostage by a supernatural event.
The
machine began to spin faster and shake harder, like a roller coaster out of
control. I was bouncing from the floor to the door to the wall with the speed
of a shooting rubber band. In no time at al, my body was turning into one
large, sore, multi-colored bruise. Beautiful light rays of red, yellow, and
green zoomed, snapped, crackled, popped, and sparkled everywhere. It sounded
like my bowl of puffed rice cereal that had just had milk poured on it.
"This
isn’t fair!" I said. "I said no to alcohol and drugs years ago.” I
thought people who weren’t addicted to that stuff couldn’t hallucinate as I’m
doing right now. Since the booth blender was locked and moving so fast, all
hopes of escape were impossible. This thing was would turn me into hamburger
meat in a minute even if I could find some way to get out of here. I quickly
balled myself up into a fetal position in the corner of the machine. It seemed
the safest option to take at the present time.
I pleaded
to the top of the machine. "God, if you get me out of this machine alive,
I promise I'll be anything, or go anywhere you want me to.” If this machine
didn’t stop soon, I was either going to pass out, vomit, or do both very soon.
Everything was starting to fade into black.
The last
time I felt this sick was the previous year when I overstuffed myself to the
point of bursting at my Philman grandparent’s Thanksgiving dinner. The misty
gray regions of sleep were becoming almost too hard to resist. Why was I
thinking of my favorite children’s storybook, The Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum right now? Words like “Dorothy,
Kansas, and cyclone” started dancing across my brain.
You know that groggy, paranoid feeling you
get when someone has awakened you out of sound sleep. I was experiencing that
right now. I was no longer spinning around in that bizarre telephone
booth. I’d definitely landed somewhere.
The question was where. I rubbed my eyes, and winced at my sore legs and arms.
I was feeling freaked out again. I finally sat up and looked around. I closed
my eyes hoping whatever I was seeing would go away. I opened my eyes. It was
still there.
I pinched myself hoping this bad dream was
indigestion from Mom’s white chili last night. Ouch, my arm throbbed along with
the headache that was developing at the base of my head. I had been asleep on a
straw mat. For how long I had no clue. I was feeling like Goldilocks. Something
didn’t seem quite right. Next to me on the tile floor were four other straw
pallets. The pallets all had blankets and each pallet was neatly made up.
Wherever I was, it appeared I was the last one up.
Early morning sunlight filtered through
the small lattice-covered window.
Elsewhere in the plain white-plastered room was a small flickering oil
lamp on top of a wooden end table. Next to the lamp was a wooden box. Inside it
were full glass jars with perfume and make-up. Also in the box were several
ivory combs and various pieces of jewelry with polished stones in them. Hanging
on the wall were pegs with various shapes, styles, and colors of clothing. From
all the clues I was picking up on, this had to be some kind of a family
bedroom. Outside, a rooster crowed in the dawn of a strange, new day.
Standing up, something felt peculiar about
my body like it wasn't mine. In the past, I’d watched horror movies where
aliens inhabited the bodies of unsuspecting human victims. I was always freaked
out by those scenes in the movie. Though I had no clue what that body invasion
thing felt like. Something just didn’t seem right. My brain kept loudly
shouting me that I was an intruder in another person's life, brain, and
body. I quickly grabbed the brightly
polished brass plate-mirror sitting in the corner of the room. I fearfully
gazed at my reflection. What stared back at me almost made me scream in horror?
This was worse than any nightmare I’d ever had. Involuntarily, my legs began to
shake, and my teeth began to chatter.
Gone was the all-American image of a
seventeen-year-old guy. In its place was a scared bewildered-looking
thirteen-old Jewish boy. I now looked about 5’4”, very tan, with lots of curly
brown hair, and frightened brown eyes. This was a complete opposite of what I
looked like in Oaksdale.
I was 6’ 2”, blue eyed, had short spiked
blond hair and an athletic build. Instead of my customary jeans, colored
t-shirt, tennis shoes, and ball cap, the new me was sporting an amber-color skullcap
(Kippah) on my head, leather sandals on my feet and a coarse yellow tunic on my
body complete with a matching cloth belt and jacket. This clothing made me itch all over my
body. This really wasn’t my style.
Something else felt peculiar and light
underneath my tunic. I quickly lifted it to inspect the problem. Yep, that
would answer it. Wherever I was didn’t use underwear either. There everything
was hanging a la natural. It felt loose and free. What a great feeling.
I wondered if this extreme new dress code
could help me pick up a date. Probably not, I looked like a bad version of I
didn’t know what. My new body and appearance left me truly speechless for once
in my life. It couldn’t be a hangover because I had never been drunk. I only
knew about that from what my older friends told me about the morning after a
drinking binge, or as they called it “the mother of all hangovers.”
I wondered where the nearest men’s
clothing store was so I could get into something normal looking. I touched my
face to once again to make sure I wasn’t imagining this whole thing. My dry
leathery skin looked and felt too real to be a dream.
Two voices were battling for dominance
inside my head. One of the voices sounded like me. The second voice was teenage
male speaking in something that sounded like Hebrew or Greek. Though I did not
know any type of foreign language in Oaksdale, I could easily translate this
language just as I had done with the voice in the telephone booth. Come to
think of it, this second voice in my head was speaking the same tongue as the
one in the telephone booth. Hmm, this was very strange. I wondered if they were
related. I knew that my voice could reproduce the same foreign language going
on in my head. Did any of this make sense?
"Why are you in my body?" The
first voice muttered in confusion. "I am Danny Philman. Who are you?"
There was silence from the second voice.
Was he angry with me? Did he understand the language I was speaking? Shouldn’t
I be the one to be quite peeved right now? Finally, he spoke.
"My name is Daniel ben Koa." (I
knew from a past bible study on biblical names that ben was not a middle name.
It was a lower case prefix used with Jewish males that meant, “Son of.”)
Our
strained chat came to a halt as a large male bodybuilder in a dress opened the
wooden door in this room. The second
voice told me this was his father, Koa, and the owner of this building.
My “second dad” intimidated me. Unlike my late father, Koa was about to bark
out orders that he expected me to obey immediately. I quickly got the idea that
fighting with Koa would be useless since he could literally pound me into a
bloody pulp. Running for my life was not an option either since Koa was
blocking the doorway. Jumping out the window was ruled out too since I didn’t
know how far off the ground this room was. Koa had to be what the child of an
army tank and a brick wall would look like. I was wondering if my “second dad”
might just know best.
If Koa didn’t scare me so bad, I would
have politely asked for sunglasses. His outfit was blinding me. Koa had a red
beard with a bright stoplight red turban, tunic, coat, and cloth belt to
match. Thank goodness his neutral brown
sandals gave the eyes a rest. Finally, the giant spoke in a deep, ominous tone.
"You are awake, my son, Daniel. Your
mother will need your help before you and your brothers go to synagogue school.
Be quick."
"Yes, Father," I stammered out
automatically. Daniel's brain was moving right in on my new life, or was this
still really his life? That would be something to think about later when I got
bored. In my opinion, boredom wasn't going to be a problem here. Somehow, I had
to let Daniel know I was in charge. Did Koa say I had brothers? I didn’t care for someone else dictating my
every move. Did this man have any clue what the real me thought of him? I bet
if he did. He wouldn't be happy at all.
As I timidly walked out of the room with a
new father and a brand new life, I realized Koa's voice was the one I'd heard
on the phone before I ended up in this place. Were there telephones in this
place? It would be my job to find that out if it was the last thing I did. I
wanted to call home as soon as possible.
It
would be a challenge to respect a middle-aged bodybuilder that was wearing a
bad version of an outdated bridesmaid dress? Of course, I didn't have a whole
lot of room to be talking since I looked about as ridiculous as he did. As I
gazed at what awaited me beyond my bedroom, I sensed that things were only
going to get stranger.
The dining room I walked into was a
cornucopia of men, women, and children. In the center of the room were three
large wooden tables arranged like a giant square horseshoe. The dining room
vibrated with the laughter and chatter of people varying in sex, age, body
shape, and nationality.
Everyone was lounging on couch-like chairs
which surrounded the horseshoe table arrangement. It amazed me that people could almost be
laying down in their chairs, and still manage to get food straight into their
mouths without dropping a bit of the food on their clothing. Once again, everyone
was speaking in a foreign language that I understood perfectly.
At
one corner of the horseshoe, a mother vigorously wiped some kind of
unrecognizable mush off her daughter's face. For some reason, the incident had
not made the lady very sociable. The little girl was about to get a generous
helping of her mother's anger. I'm sure she didn't want the smack on her rear
that was about to hit her like a hurricane any minute.
Near the middle of the table, a group of
men conversed about a variety of topics ranging from the weather to the
low-cost housing being built on the north end of Bethlehem.
On the opposite end of the horseshoe, a
sweet older couple, which reminded me of Grandma and Grandpa Philman, ate and
talked slowly. "Cleophas, do you think…
“She cleared her throat and began to whisper. I moved closer so I could hear well.
" …that the Messiah will come this
year? For such a long time the Jews have been taxed and bullied by these
heathenistic Romans. If ever we needed someone to reign over us and finally
bring triumph and glory back to Israel, the time is now."
With a sudden look of alarm, the old man
covered his wife's mouth with his wrinkled bony hand. He angrily whispered,
"Priscilla, you must never again mention such a thing in a public
place. Danny ears could be listening to
us now as we speak. Such words could mean our death or imprisonment."
From the corner of my eye, a plump woman
dressed in a green gown with long, black, braided hair headed my way. Daniel
informed me this was my mother, Tabitha. The warm smile on her face told me she
was a kind and caring mother. (She could be my mother’s twin.)
Did all moms go to some kind of school to
learn the "you-better-listen-to-me" look? My new mom had it, and she
was headed my way.
"Did you have a good night's sleep,
Daniel?"
"Yes, Mother," I answered.
"Son, I need you to make sure that
all the guests have enough cheese, bread, and figs to eat. Make sure the water pitchers are full
too."
"Yes, Mother," I said.
"Check on your brothers also. They are to
be tending the animals. Lucas and Joel should have returned to the Inn by now.
When you are done serving the guests, you may eat some breakfast
yourself," she said.
She
stared out the one large window in the room, and remarked, "It looks like
it's going to be a lovely spring day in Bethlehem. The Inn of Chimham will be busy today. I'll
be outside in the courtyard grinding grain for tonight's supper if you need
me." With those commands Tabitha sauntered out the door.
I wish someone here could see who I really
was on the inside. Just because I look like your son, Daniel doesn't mean I
am. I wanted to shout at the top of my
lungs, “I am Danny Philman from Oaksdale, Ohio!” It didn’t appear anyone in
this place was a mind reader, so that meant I had to keep pretending to be
Daniel ben Koa.
After satisfying the desires of the customers,
I drank some lukewarm water, gobbled down some cheese, and swallowed one of
those rock-hard biscuits that cracked in my mouth when I ate it. My teeth and
jaws would never be the same.
"What I wouldn't do for a big bowl of
frosted corn flakes," I thought. Once again, Daniel directed me toward the
stable where my brothers were. I found them in a rocky cave that was a short
distance from the inn. The entrance to this place was large enough to let
people and animals in, but small enough to keep much of the weather and noise
out. My brothers turned out to be two twin kindergarten-age rug-rats.
Presently, they were enjoying a messy hay fight.
The smell of this place gagged me.
Stubborn donkeys, jittery chickens, and unruly cows packed the rafters of the
rock barn. The smell reminded me of why
I chose to live in the city instead of on a farm. Though the cave was well lit
with small wall oil lamps, it still seemed lonely, damp, and uninviting. Was
Bethlehem some unique backwards community that didn’t believe in electricity or
the most up-to-date clothing? I’d never seen Amish people that dressed like
these folks.
"Joel," I growled like an angry
drill sergeant. Immediately the freckled boy with straw in his brown hair stood
up straight like a toy soldier.
"Lucas, stop playing around and get your
work done," I commanded. The other boy with a missing front tooth stood at
attention.
"Daniel!" They both charged towards
my legs and affectionately hung on like leeches. All this love was going to
turn me into a cripple. I felt my limbs going numb and bet they were turning
blue. With all the courage I could muster, I peeled their tiny faces and hands
off my limbs and waist.
Whew . . . it felt good to have blood coursing
through my two legs again. Toothless Lucas smiled at me and said, "I think
Babella's going to be all right."
"Who's Babella?" I asked as if I
didn't know. Daniel had told me who it was. I just loved to hear that whistle
sound coming from the big gap in front of Lucas' teeth.
"Daniel, you know that's our pet
donkey." Lucas pointed to a mangy creature lazily munching on hay. The
donkey was covered from top to bottom in tiny white bumps.
The freckled lad, Joel, chimed in.
"Lucas and I fed him some plant that he wasn't supposed to eat. We just
wanted to see what would happen."
Joel almost started to cry, but I stopped him
just in the nick of time. I hated hearing little kids cry. "Last night
Father really spanked us hard when he found out what we'd done." At the
same time, they both started rubbing their rear ends. It was so cute that I
almost couldn't keep from laughing. I did manage to bite my lip to keep from
embarrassing myself.
With lots of teamwork, we finished feeding the
animals, threw out the old straw, and filled the cave with fresh, clean straw.
With a sense of satisfaction, I strolled inside the inn and got the twins some
figs and biscuits to eat like a good, protective big brother should. We all
went out in the courtyard to say goodbye to Tabitha.
She looked at the twins and gave them her
"you-two-be-good" speech, which I was sure she'd given hundreds of
time before. I was instructed to make
sure these two didn't get into any trouble at synagogue school. They were to
walk home after school with me. Trying
to keep them out of trouble seemed like a great deal to ask of one person. In minutes, we were all following the winding
dirt path that led to synagogue school.
This book
is continued in installment
two.
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